Connaissez-vous ces beaux soirs d\u2019or,
\nO\u00f9 les anges voilent les yeux du jour,
\nL\u2019\u00e9t\u00e9, quand on aime, d\u2019un lent amour,
\nCeux d\u2019autrefois \u00e0 qui l\u2019on a fait tort :
\nLes doux, qui se donn\u00e8rent, sans envie,
\nEt dont aucun ne se d\u00e9couragea,
\nBien que souvent, on afflige\u00e2t
\nLeur c\u0153ur, pour se prouver, avec hargne, sa vie.<\/p>\n
Ils \u00e9taient bons jusqu\u2019\u00e0 lasser,
\nEt pardonnant jusqu\u2019\u00e0 froisser.
\nLeurs c\u0153urs na\u00effs et inventifs
\nDe bienveillance et de tendresse,
\nSe d\u00e9vouaient, avec des mots presque sacr\u00e9s.<\/p>\n
En leurs yeux purs et assur\u00e9s,
\nO\u00f9 se mouillaient des regrets de caresses,
\nSe maintenait la confiance
\nIntacte encor de la premi\u00e8re enfance.<\/p>\n
Ils arrivaient, du c\u00f4t\u00e9 du matin,
\nAvec le r\u00eave, en eux, des temps lointains,
\nO\u00f9 les l\u00e8vres des fleurs et des corolles
\nParlaient, avec des banderolles,
\nSelon la loi, qui fait timides les paroles.<\/p>\n
Ils \u00e9taient blancs d\u2019une lumi\u00e8re
\nDont la flamme dormait, au berceau de la terre ;
\nIls \u00e9taient forts d\u2019une autre joie
\nQue celle, h\u00e9las ! qui tient, entre ses mains,
\nDes fleurs rouges, comme des proies.<\/p>\n
Et leurs pas lents suivaient, par nos chemins,
\nL\u2019empreinte d\u2019or dont les J\u00e9sus, sans doute,
\nAu temps des saints, avaient marqu\u00e9 la route.
\nAussi v\u00e9curent-ils, sans nulle plainte,
\nDupes du monde \u2014 et n\u00e9anmoins
\nVoulant toujours porter, plus loin,
\nL\u2019offrande \u00e0 tous de leur douceur sans crainte.<\/p>\n
Mais aujourd\u2019hui qu\u2019ils sont les morts,
\nLoin des d\u00e9dains et loin des haines,
\n\u2014 En ces heures de beaux soirs d\u2019or
\nO\u00f9 les anges voilent les yeux du jour \u2014
\nH\u00e9las, comme au-del\u00e0 de l\u2019heure humaine,
\nOn les aime d\u2019un triste et regressif amour.<\/p>\n
On les r\u00eave, l\u00e0-bas, v\u00eatus de laines,
\nAupr\u00e8s des vierges et des fleurs,
\nEn des jardins ornant des plaines
\nEt descendant, vers la rivi\u00e8re,
\nMirer les rosiers blancs de la pri\u00e8re.<\/p>\n
Ils habitent les pays de clart\u00e9
\nQui sont leur \u00e2me
\nRevenue \u00e0 son essence et sa flamme ;
\nLeur \u00e2me de candeur et de bont\u00e9,
\nQue personne, durant leur passage sur terre,
\nN\u2019a visit\u00e9e.
\nLeur voix n\u2019a rien chang\u00e9 \u00e0 son myst\u00e8re,
\nLeurs yeux profonds et assidus n\u2019ont rien perdu
\nDe la sereine violence
\nDe leur silence.<\/p>\n
Ils nous h\u00e8lent, l\u00e0 haut, parmi les firmaments,
\nBien qu\u2019on voudrait
\nLes voir rena\u00eetre, ici, pour s\u2019en aller, aupr\u00e8s,
\nD\u00e8s \u00e0 pr\u00e9sent,
\nSe repentir, profond\u00e9ment.<\/p>\n
Et r\u00eavant d\u2019eux, en ce d\u00e9cor d\u2019or sombre,
\nO\u00f9 les anges ferment, avec de l\u2019ombre,
\nLes yeux du jour,
\nLe c\u0153ur trop longtemps clos, \u00e0 leur amour
\nSe donne,
\nTandis que, dans la paix du soir,
\nLeur tranquille m\u00e9moire
\nToujours plus douce, nous pardonne.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[482],"poems-book":[691],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[654],"class_list":["post-15257","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-482","poems-book-les-visages-de-la-vie","poete-emile-verhaeren"],"yoast_head":"\n